


The Light is Mine

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: The Lighthouse (2019)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Mind Control, Mindfuck, Missing Scene, Sexual Content, Slight Canon Divergence, Yuleporn, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21951313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: A hard-workin' man finishes what he starts, Winslow.
Relationships: Thomas Wake/Ephraim Winslow
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	The Light is Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brampersandon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brampersandon/gifts).



Ephraim woke early, despite the ache in his muscles and cold in his bones that tried to drag him back down to sleep. Tom wouldn't show up for at least another hour, grumblin' and fartin' and barkin' orders as he crawled into bed. 

The dream that woke him left a salty, sour smell in his nostrils and the back of his throat, like fish, rotten on the shore. But he'd woken hard from the memory of hair that framed a pale face like ropes of seaweed, and the way he'd slipped inside her like puttin' his hand inside a real sheepskin glove, soft and tight and grippin' him like he belonged there. 

Her flesh had been cold, like the sea, and yanked him about like the surf when he'd woken with a shout on his lips. 

But his bunk was warm, and he was blessedly alone. Ephraim slipped the mermaid figurine from beneath his pillow and rubbed his thumb against the contours of it as he gripped himself, rhythmless, like wild waves slappin’ the shore. 

Uneven footsteps reached him too late, and there was Tom, standing in the doorway, mouth dropped open like he'd seen an actual siren in the bed instead of Ephraim fucking his own fist. 

Ephraim rolled to face the wall, and shoved the figurine beneath his pillow. "You're early." When no answer came, no movement, he glanced over his shoulder. 

Tom still stood in the doorway. His tongue slipped out and slicked his bottom lip. "Not how's I see it."

Ephraim took a deep breath, then rolled over and dropped his feet to the floor. He could have stayed there a while longer, maybe gotten a little more rest, if fucking Tom hadn't shown up. He couldn't wait to be out of that room now. 

"What needs doin' first?" He reached for his boot.

Tom chuckled and slapped the boot out of his hand, then straightened, arched his back. "Now, laddie, who told ye to stop?"

Ephraim scoffed and reached for the boot. "Get into bed you old--"

Tom kicked the boot away this time, nearly toppling himself. But he found his balance and stood with one hand on his hip, a bottle dangling from the other. "I said, lad, who told ye _you could stop?_ "

Ephraim raked his fingers through his hair and sniffed. Had the old bastard lost his mind?

Tom grunted and shoved Ephraim's shoulders, knocking his upper back into the wall behind him. "You'll do as I say." He shoved his foot between Ephraim's and kicked his feet apart, then knocked his knees farther apart with a bony fist. 

"What's gotten into ya?" Ephraim didn't move, but waited to see what explanation Tom could give.

"You're the one who decided to shame yourself, and careless enough to make me a witness to it." Tom licked his lips again, his eyes narrowed. "Go on, then. Finish what ye started.”

“What’ya mean, carrying on this way over somethin’ like this?” He could knock him back with an easy fist if he wanted to, but he didn’t move.

“Yer a good fer nothin’. A layabout. Unfinished business, business poorly done, that’s what ye are. Can’t even finish this and you want to tend the lamp?” Tom laughed, rough as sandpaper. 

“One’s got nothin’ to do with the other.” Ephraim rested his hand on his thigh. Is that what it’d take for Tom to see him as worthy? What the hell was wrong with him?

Tom’s Adam’s apple twitched as he swallowed. “Ain’t ye a man, _Ephraim Winslow?_ Man enough to tend the light? Men finish what they start."

Ephraim set his jaw and wrapped his fingers around himself. Tom leaned closer, peering at it, watching like it might get away if he didn’t keep an eye on it. He got hard fast and earned an approving nod. 

He closed his eyes and thought of long, wet strands of hair. Soft, damp skin, curled like lace, gripping him and pulling him in. His knees fell farther apart. A grunt drew his eyes open. Tom gripped a bottle to white knuckles, his other hand inside his pants. 

"That's a good lad," Tom said through his teeth, corners of his mouth pulled back into a smile that looked more like it belonged on a corpse than a man alive. His chest expanded and shrank as Ephraim sped up, the sharp scent of whiskey washing over his face as Tom leaned closer, watching from above, his eyes gone soft, his mouth hanging open.

“Now, lad . . . I say ye has had enough.” His bottom lip disappeared under his tongue. He moaned, the sound vibrating through Ephraim, though he wasn't ready yet. "Enough now."

Tom’s eyes flicked up, his gaze meeting Ephraim’s and pinning him down as sure as any hands could. As they stared at each other, his hips bucked. He shouted, Tom already laughing before he’d finished, licking his mouth like he could taste it.

“So ye _can_ follow orders? Finally, doin’ as yer told.”

Ephraim, his wits about him again, sat forward. Tom stepped back and turned away. 

"Where you goin'?"

Tom's mouth worked like he was chewing air, his gaze darting side to side. "Check the lamp one last time."

He tried to hurry from the room, but Ephraim caught him before he'd reached the door and pushed his back against the wall hard enough to make Tom grunt. "The light's fine. I'm sure you tended it fine while you was there."

"It needs--" 

Ephraim shoved him, slamming him into the wall again. 

"The light needs--"

"What does it need, huh? Tell me? What does the light need from you so bad _you_ can’t finish what ya started?" Ephraim shoved his hand down the front of Tom's loose trousers and found him hard. 

Tom dropped the bottle, the smell of whiskey filling the air as it poured out onto the floor. He pounded Ephraim with both fists and pushed him. "What're ye doin'? Get off me, lad."

Ephraim refused to be pushed off. "The light. You think it needs somethin'?" He shoved a knee between Tom's legs to keep him in place.

Tom shook his head and half-heartedly gripped Ephraim's arm. "No, nothin’."

"Somethin' from you! Tell me what you think it needs from ya, Tom." He stroked Tom as roughly as he'd ever touched himself, when he wanted to speed through to the end, when it wasn't about bein' teased but gettin' relief. 

Tom's grip on his arms held him in place instead of trying to push him away. The man's hips bucked forward sliding him into Ephraim's fist, matching him, as if they'd done this before and he knew the rhythm. 

Ephraim leaned against him, the weight of his body pinning Tom in place. Tom hissed something Ephraim couldn't understand, and his body snapped. Heat spilled over Ephraim's fist.

Tom's whispered word was lost as Ephraim grunted and rubbed himself against Tom's hip, trying not to think about how dirty Tom's clothes already were. 

Tom whispered again as Ephraim gave him one last tug and rut against him, relief flooding his bones.

Ephraim stared at Tom's closed eyes. "What did you say?"

Tom met his gaze, and his eyes narrowed to slits. "Didn't say nothin'."

"Did you say _you_? It needs _you_?"

"As in ye, Ephraim Winslow?" Tom shoved him and straightened his soiled trousers with a laugh. "You've been on this rock too long, lad." He motioned at Ephraim with a waving hand. "Put your pecker away."

Ephraim crawled back into his bed and found the mermaid statuette under his pillow. He thumbed it like a talisman, something to bring luck and ward off evil spirits. "I could've sworn you said--"

"You? Probably _ooooh_ given what ye was doing at the time." Tom limped to his bunk and plopped down, and was on his back with his eyes closed in seconds. 

"I though you were going to check the lamp."

"Lamp's fine."

"But you said the lamp needs--"

"Checkin'. But I forgot, I did check it before I left. Easy to forget yerself here. Ye know well about that, don't ye, lad? Have ye forgotten all decorum, what with inviting me to help ye find some relief."

"I didn't invite you to do anything."

"Are ye sure about that? What'dya think I came back early for?"

"Because you leave most of your work for me and you wanted to get to bed. Don't act like I invited you for anything."

"Before I went out to the light today ye told me to come early. Remember? Ye said ye wanted my help with a thing that's been bothering ye. I had no idea what that might be until I walked in and saw yer shame."

"I ain't ashamed. Got no reason to be. But it's not something you want other people to see."

Tom leaned up on his elbows and shouted. 'Then why'd you invite me to see it?"

"I didn't!"

"You did, and I saw, and I helped ye. Ye don't have to thank me, I suppose, but the least ye could do is not try to twist my words and pretend ye had no hand in it."

Tom let himself drop back onto the bed, and a chuckle burst out of him. 

"Because ye most certainly had a hand in it."

Ephraim wiped his clean hand down his face. He laughed. Tom laughed louder, until both men howled. 

When Ephraim's laughter faded and he wiped his eyes, he dressed. Tom watched him from his bunk, fingers laced together on top of his stomach. Sometimes he appeared asleep, but Ephraim caught him peering through slitted eyes. When his boots were on and he'd clipped his suspenders, he turned to face the man. 

"What?" Tom's eyes went wide with innocence. 

Ephraim wasn't going to play this game anymore. He walked to the door. 

"Ye just had yer hand wrapped around me manhood, and ye got a problem with me watchin’ ye put yer clothes on?"

"No, it's what you're thinkin' interests me."

"I's be thinkin' yer behind in your duties, and wonderin' if it's because a spendin' all day pullin' yer pecker instead of doing a man's work."

"No." Ephraim spun and pointed at him. "You know full well I'm a hard worker. Why do ya say such things when you know they ain't true."

Tom chuckled, and his eyes flashed. "Gets yer cheeks pink, it does."

"Why, you old--"

"Mind ye," Tom groaned. "Don’t ye raise me ire. Might be time to teach you to tend the lamp, laddie." 

"You’ll really teach me to tend it? What about all your yellin’ that the light is yours?”

Tom winked at him. "I think ye be just about ready. It may be time it’ll benefit from another’s touch. But if ye raise me ire," he added, his tone gone from kind to angry in the way that he so often did, "I'll see to it that the light burn through ye, burn all the rebellion out of ye, and you'll rue the day I ushered you through that hatch."

Ephraim nodded. “I’ll do a good job with it.”

“I think ye might. And don't abuse yerself today. It wouldn’t like it.”

“It wouldn’t like it? The light?”

“I _. I_ wouldn’t like it ‘cause it means ye spent idle time when ye shouldn’t. Now leave me be, laddie. Already behind.”

Ephraim left, but stopped outside the door and leaned against the wall. Finally, the light. He’d given up on the idea of ever gettin’ near it, and the anticipation warmed his chest like the lamp lit the sea right off the coast.

A sound carried through the door. Weeping, and a catch in the throat. “Ye shall have him soon, just like I said, like ye fated me to agree." Tom moaned like he had watching Ephraim find relief, a low and mournful sound. Then a whisper, his voice shaking like gale winds rattling through the boards. 

“Same as before, damn ye, ye shall have him.”


End file.
